Sunday, 26 February 2012

Yesterday Father and Sister in Law came to Poole to visit Jake and stay at
Korving Towers. For SIL it had been 2.5 weeks and for FIL it had been 4 weeks
since last seeing Jake. A lot has happened in that time.

Honestly? I have found the last 4 weeks difficult for a variety of reasons.
Jake and I moved to Poole knowing that it didn't matter that we only knew
family in the area, we would make a bunch of new friends and in the meantime we
had each other...which hasn't really worked out. I knew that lots of people
would want to see Jake once he was transferred to Poole and therefore I would
have lots of visitors...and then the hospital imposed norovirus induced visiting
restrictions. Also during this time Jake has been making slow but extraordinary
progress, but I had no-one to validate this for me and, because of my tendency
to be overly optimistic, I got the sense that my reports were being received by
all quarters with some caution (which is fair enough; I understand the need to
protect oneself from setting expectations too high).

So all in all, I have felt a little bit isolated.

I have also been worried about the impact on Jake of only having me to visit
him. From what we have been able to glean, he doesn't seem to remember the move
to Poole and so to go from having lots of visitors in London to just me must
have left him feeling a bit isolated too. On top of that, although I realise
that my naturally sparkling personality, together with my amazing comedic
talent will have entertained Jake to a degree, it must be a bit boring just
seeing my inanely grinning mug for 3-4 hours every day!

A visit from the Woods last week definitely helped (especially the bit in
the pub), but they only got to see Jake for 20 minutes and I think it was
difficult for them and Jake to adjust in such a short time.

Yesterday's visit has therefore been fantastic for everyone, I was so
ridiculously excited about how FIL and SIL would find Jake (whilst also praying
that he didn't sleep all through their visit) and the beaming, full dimple smile
he gave them when they arrived felt like being given bottled sunshine in a
darkened room. It was also amazing to see their reaction as we four Korvings
sat together in the day room; a sort of mix of bewilderment, relief, shock and
delight as he engaged, communicated and moved his limbs. Magic.

I am very much aware that it has also been difficult for them to leave; each
day I experience the dreadful moment of goodbye when Jake looks at me with
those large, soulful blue eyes and I have to tear myself away. I am lucky; I
get to go back the next day, so it must have been truly difficult for them to
leave him last night after more than 3 hours of precious time together, and
even harder to get back in the car to head back up the M3 this morning.

I hope though that this trip has shown them that it is not so very far away, that there is much reason to hope
and that they, along with anyone else who loves our Jake, have an open
invitation to return to Korving Towers at any time. You are not just welcome;
we need you!

Sunday, 19 February 2012

Tomorrow Jake begins his rehabilitation journey. He has been medically
stable now for weeks, is safely installed in boot camp, his weekly schedule
has been agreed and we have met most of the team. He is also making real
progress, but more of that later.

This move to rehab has made me look back over the past 4 months and it feels like
another country, one where we lurched from one overwhelming drama to another
and the enormity of what had happened cast a heavy, menacing shadow over every
part of our lives. Today I feel bizarrely removed from it all, almost as though
I am looking back over footage filmed in another age that doesn't really relate
to me.

I know for example, that in the first two weeks my heart was ripped from my
chest as we were repeatedly told Jake was unlikely to survive and I felt a
terror and pain that cannot be put into words, it was like someone was
sandpapering my soul. I also know that over this period I felt frightened,
abandoned, angry, lost, cheated, misunderstood, fiercely loved, cared for,
supported and protected all at once. It feels now like it happened to someone
else; like I have been able to observe and learn from a truly toxic experience
without getting any on me! Odd.

Today I feel calm, strong, optimistic, hopeful and purposeful. It's almost
as if before the accident my life was viewed through an old analogue TV; today
it's a life viewed in high definition. Perspective is forever changed and it is
now time to look forward and face a new future.

Don't fret, I'm not in denial and I do realise that we are at the start of
what will no doubt be a frustrating, bloody and exhausting journey for us all.
But a lesson that I was given some time ago by a lovely lady called Jess but am
only just learning, is that you have to look for the good in every situation,
you have to actively recognise the things you should be grateful for.

My husband has a severe brain injury, but he is alive. Our life has changed
forever and many of the plans we had must be put aside, but we have new
opportunities and I know with a certainty I have never felt before that we will
make the most of these. We will have a good life; different, but good.

Today Jake continues to demonstrate that you should never write a Korving
off. His ability to communicate continues to improve, as does his awareness and
wakefulness. He still has the same sense of silliness that made me love him and
when he rewards you with one of his full-dimple smiles it is the best feeling
in the world. He has started to move his legs a little and his co-ordination is
coming along although his fine motor skills are not great at the moment
(scratching the right bit of his nose is a challenge sometimes). From the
limited communication we have been able to have so far it seems that there may
be some issues with past memories, but that's ok, we'll make better new ones.
His determination is awe inspiring and I get a childish sense of glee when I
see the surprised looks on the medical teams faces.

He is still bed bound, double incontinent, being fed through a tube in his
stomach and there is still a Pandora’s
box of potential problems to face; but he has already achieved so much more
than expected and that's before he benefits from the expertise of the boot camp
team.

Friday, 10 February 2012

Take a moment to think back to the last time you sat an
exam; recall the nervous anxiety flip flopping in your stomach, the clammy
hands and dry throat, the alarming realisation that you have one shot to 'pass'
and this is it. If you have children, how did it feel on SAT, 11+, GCSE, A
level or degree results day? Hold that thought and feeling for a moment.

Under the Rehabilitation Code 2007 Jake is eligible for a
dedicated Case Manager, co-funded by the driver's insurance company and our
solicitor, even though liability is still not yet agreed. The purpose of this
is to make sure that Jake's needs are prioritised ahead of any legal wrangling
and we get the right support at the right time.

Today as part of this process Jake and I are having an
'immediate needs assessment' with our Case Manager. Having spoken to her on the
phone I know she is lovely. She has been caring and supportive and seems
genuinely interested in helping us. Of course, she is co-funded, so she is not
a member of Team Korving, rather an impartial observer and contributor, which I
must remember!

All in all, today is an opportunity to make sure that Jake
is fully supported and given every possible chance for a good outcome.

So why do I feel like we're about to take an exam?! I know
this is ridiculous, but I can feel myself obsessing about what I'm going to say
and whether Jake will 'perform'.

I must fight the urge to check that my pen works, my pencil
is sharpened, that I have a clean eraser and my calculator doesn't need new
batteries. I must also fight the bizarre urge I have to make sure I have my
best pants on! Madness.

Let's be honest, you don't need to be a psychologist to
realise that I am transferring my general anxiety about what has happened onto
this afternoon's meeting...I do so hate being such a cliché!

So, assuming you are able to recall that exam time feeling,
think of us this afternoon as we are on our best behaviour, whilst wearing our
best pants. I'll let you know how we get on.

Monday, 6 February 2012

That really does seem to have been the overriding theme for this whole
situation and my life in general at the moment; waiting.

Jake is safely installed in Poole hospital as we wait for Boot Camp to
begin. Boot Camp is the Portland Ward, the rehab unit where Jake will start to
follow a structured routine of occupational therapy, speech therapy and
physiotherapy. There are breakfast and lunch clubs, activity clubs and even
cooking clubs! The Sister of Portland Ward has already warned me that we are
likely to fall out and is using words like 'discipline', 'rules' and 'strict'
and everything I hear and read about brain injury rehabilitation tells me that
Jake and those of us who love and support him may be in for a tough time...
boot camp style.

Despite this I can't wait for us to start. Jake becomes more present every
day and yesterday he and I were both frustrated and upset by my inability to
understand him. In the rare moments he is truly present he is mumbling and
whispering and I am desperate to be able to respond, help and understand. I am
resorting to a sort of exaggerated mix between charades and 20 questions and
Jake (and any member of the medical team who happen to be passing) looks at me
like I have gone completely mad. Which of course I have!

We know that the Jake we get back will be different and the longest wait of
all is to see to what that difference is, but I am excited by the possibility
of what the Boot Camp team can do and am determined to prove to the team that
with their experience and my superior communication skills (ahem), we can avoid
the predicted fallings out and work together as a harmonious Team Korving. Ha
ha.

All this lies ahead of us and for now we must hold steady as we wait for a
Boot Camp bed to become available.

In the meantime, can anyone recommend a good communications skills book?!

Wednesday, 1 February 2012

We broke
out of the Tooting Hilton and are back in Poole; Jake in a very swanky side room
with views over Poole Harbour (I’m thinking of moving in) and me in our little
house with our cat Milo.

For me this
makes all the difference in the world; it is easier for me to work, I have all
of my things around me and the hospital is a 25 minute stroll away.That said, I do miss ‘rooming’ with Sister in
Law; despite the hideous circumstances, we had a really good laugh and
provided each other with a level of support I’m not sure anyone else could have
provided.I feel fairly confident that
she won’t miss having to share her hairdryer though!

For Jake it
is another step on the journey towards rehabilitation, whatever that will mean
for him and us in the long term.He is
currently top of the list for a bed on the Portland Ward, a specialist brain
injury rehabilitation unit and having met the Portland team, I am reassured that
this will be a very good move.I say ‘currently
top of the list’ because I have been warned that this could change at any time
as new cases are regularly put forward and one of them may have a greater
need.As usual, we continue to cross
everything and hopefully Jake will be on this next phase of the journey by the
end of February.

Yesterday
was a bit of a funny day at Boot Camp as Poole Hospital shall now be named. Jake has
another infection on board and is therefore very ‘knocked off’ as the
professionals call it.This meant
another chest x-ray and his nurse and I went down to radiology with him.Two of the radiographers kept looking at him
funny and finally asked me what he did for a living and where he had
qualified.Yes, you guessed it; they
were on the same course as Jake at the University of Hertfordshire.It felt so wrong that people who were his
peers just a few years ago were now the health care professionals working with
my broken boy.This made me very sad.

I also met
with the specialist nurse and co-ordinator from the Portland Ward who gave me a
sense of what brain injury rehabilitation looks like (more on that in future
posts) and asked me lots of questions about Jake and his hobbies, likes, dislikes,
personality and background.This was an
odd experience; it is important for me to remember everything that makes Jake
the amazing man I married, but this is both uplifting and heart breaking at the
same time as we don’t know what Jake’s outcome will be.

So I find
myself in a period of reflection; reflecting on the extraordinary talent,
commitment and caring of the St George’s team we have said goodbye to and are eternally grateful for;
reflecting on how incredibly lucky I have been to have found such a wonderful partner
in Jake and reflecting on what the future may look like (I'm reasonably confident it will involve wine).

Please keep
on doing what you do to send your hopes, wishes and prayers our way and
remember that there is a spare room waiting if you want to come and see us
beside the seaside…beside the sea!